


just imagine the world a little smaller tonight

by elizabaethhenstridge (kferreryo)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AoS OT5, F/M, Fitzsimmons is basically the bulk of the romance, Fluff, Gen, Island vacation, Jemma doesn't get sent away/doesn't leave SHIELD, Multi, Songfic, THIS IS INSANELY CHEESY YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, TINY bit of TripSkye, Universe Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 13:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2695100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kferreryo/pseuds/elizabaethhenstridge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“Ready to go, Skye?” he asks, and she gets the craziest urge to laugh; </em>of course<em> she’s ready—she’s ecstatic and she’s calm and she’s a million different things, and when the engine begins to roar, she feels herself kick-starting to life along with it. </em></p><p>In which the AoS OT5 takes a week-long vacation to The Cottage, a SHIELD base being built on a remote island.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just imagine the world a little smaller tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Universe Alteration: Jemma doesn't leave SHIELD in between S1 and S2, so she doesn't get sent to Hydra.
> 
> Set in the first part of season 2; Ward is still in the vault, Bobbi has returned to SHIELD.
> 
> [8tracks Playlist](http://8tracks.com/theformidableshe/just-imagine-the-world-a-little-smaller-tonight)

**_1\. standing on the top of a parking lot; i gave it all i had, show me what you’ve got. there’s some things i found that make so much sound._ **

Leo Fitz had always wondered what it would be like to fly.

Not the kind of flying that one does to visit relatives across the country, or go to university, or stop a Nazi organization hell-bent on taking over the world (and, quite possibly, the universe, given recent developments).

No.

He remembers reading about it as early as childhood: stories of dragons and Pegasi and fairies with all manner of wings and pixie dust. As he grew older, his visions of flight had changed into hovercrafts, jetpacks, and gliders. He even dreamed of inventing the first device that could make a person fly, which is how his engineering career began. Unfortunately for him, Tony Stark had beaten him to the punch.

He makes an offhand comment about this to Skye, who, for all her Zen warrior training with Agent May, lets out an “Aww!” upon hearing it.

She describes her parachute experience in detail to help him visualize it, but Fitz runs a hand through his hair, frustration building up inside him, hating the fact that he’s holed up at the Playground watching everyone else come out and return with experiences like this. Hell, even Jemma had gone flying ( _sort of_ ), and she wasn’t even a field agent.

Still, Fitz tries to change the subject, because he knows that it’s stupid and he knows that he can’t, and to _stop dreaming with your head in the clouds, Fitz, because it’s not going to happen anytime soon_ , but he hopes, in the small part of his heart that is still capable of unconditional trust, that Skye, with her tenacity and determination and pure unselfish _spirit_ , could convince whichever powers-that-be that were in charge of this sort of thing to understand his complete and utter need to break the monotony, take some time off, and just _soar_.

Skye grabs his arm and drags him to Coulson’s office.

~~~~~~~~~~

Not for the first time, Skye wonders if she has powers.

She wonders what mysterious and supreme force somehow blessed her with enough assertiveness in her voice and longing in her eyes that she was able to not only persuade Coulson to let Fitz out of the Playground, but give the _entire team_ a week off from their duties at SHIELD; but be it a deity, the fates, or just pure luck, she thanks her stars for this moment, as she watches Coulson make the announcement to the team. 

Interestingly enough, when she and Fitz had approached Coulson, he had agreed right away: a break was a luxury they haven’t been able to afford in a long time, and now that SHIELD was building itself back up, it was high time everybody get some breathing room to relieve the tension.

He’d set it up under the feeble guise of a mission (one that every single member of the team sees through as soon as he announces it), and chosen to send them to a SHIELD base that was being built at a remote island: The Cottage. Unfortunately, when he announces it to the team, he isn’t able to convince everyone.

Skye is a solid yes, obviously, because _she_ was the one who had planted the idea in the first place. Simmons and Fitz are a go, too; they definitely need a break after everything that’s happened to them, and surely the other scientists could survive without them for a week.

Hunter and Mack decline; their idea of a vacation is a six-pack and Call of Duty on the big screen, so Coulson lets them stay and have their leave at the Playground.

Coulson and May would, of course, remain at the Playground as well, which leaves Triplett and Bobbi, who both nod their yes. “As long as I don’t have to deal with him.” Bobbi adds, tilting her head towards Hunter.

To Bobbi’s left, Hunter lets out a sigh of relief, and she smirks.

~~~~~~~~~~

Skye finally steps into the hangar, and among the bigger and better planes, she spots it: the quinjet, _their_ quinjet, waiting for them, pristine and perfect and ready to take them away. From a distance, she can see Bobbi waving from the ramp, and above the incessantly loud engines of surrounding jets, she hears her call out, “Skye! We’re all set in here. You good?” and Skye pauses. 

Her fingers wrap around the straps of her bag and she runs, as fast as she can, because she can feel the walls closing in on her and with every step she takes, her aching need to be free of duty and responsibility and survival only grows. She reaches the jet, stepping past Bobbi with a smile, and sets her bag down in the middle of the floor.

“There she is.” Trip says, and she can see that he’s grinning the widest he’s ever grinned, and she matches it with one of her own as she straps herself to a seat. Fitz and Simmons are in front of her, already in position, and she watches Bobbi stroll to the front of the cockpit to take her place next to Trip, who is closing the ramp and starting the jet. 

“Ready to go, Skye?” he asks, and she gets the craziest urge to laugh; _of course_ she’s ready—she’s ecstatic and she’s calm and she’s a million different things, and when the engine begins to roar, she feels herself kick-starting to life along with it. She shuts her eyes and takes one last deep breath before allowing her heart to race, and the adrenaline rush of uncertain and happy washes over her as she drinks in this moment as much as she possibly can.

Her eyes burst open and let in the light.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”

 

 

**_2\. i could show you what you wanna see and take you where you wanna be… even if the sky is falling down, i know that we'll be safe and sound._  **

Antoine Triplett is 110% sure that no one in all of time and space has ever been as comfortable as he is right now.

Not Bobbi, who had moved to the back of the quinjet after takeoff to enjoy a book; nor Fitzsimmons, who had fallen asleep next to each other (Trip notices that she’s leaning her head on his shoulder and makes a mental note to tell Skye later); and not even Skye herself, who is slumped against the pile of bags in the middle of the jet in what has to be the laziest sleeping position humanly possible.

Once they’d reached altitude, she had unstrapped herself from her seat and plopped herself down on top of the bags. When she’d noticed the others staring, she shrugged and continued to scroll through her phone. ”Judge all you want, guys; I’ll just be sitting here being a cat. You guys keep sitting up straight over there and we’ll talk when your shoulders begin to stiffen.” she’d smirked playfully.

Now she’s asleep, too, and, seeing her splayed out over the luggage, phone in hand, earbuds still in her ears, Trip had to admit that she _did_ kind of look like a cat. 

He’s turning back to the window when he’s suddenly hit by an idea. Flipping on autopilot, he slips his headset off and heads over to the bags (and Skye) in the middle of the jet. He reaches for his duffel, grinning as he fishes inside one of the pockets.

_Aha!_

He pulls out the little iPod and presses it between his fingers, tiptoeing past his sleeping teammates back to the front of the quinjet. Before he plugs the cord in, he turns to Bobbi, sitting cross-legged on the floor, engrossed in the book she was holding. “Hey, Bobbi,” says Trip, and she looks up at him and snaps the book shut around her finger, “mind if I play some music?"

“No, go on." she says.

“Any requests?” and he holds up the iPod with his eyebrows raised.

Bobbi shrugs and turns back to her book. “Whatever’s clever.” she says, and Trip chuckles at the rhyme. He scrolls through the songs on his iPod and selects a Capital Cities song, pressing the play button. “This okay?” he asks as he adjusts the volume of the speaker so as not to wake the others who are sleeping.

“It’s great,” she replies absentmindedly, already deep into her book again, and as he settles back on the pilot’s chair, the clouds above him, the world beneath his feet, and his favorite song playing on the loudspeaker, Antoine Triplett couldn’t agree more.

~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Hey, do you guys ever wonder what we’d be like if we were superheroes? Like with real, actual powers and everything?” Skye blurts out, thinking aloud.

They’re still in the air, but everyone had woken up from their nap a few hours ago. Fitz and Simmons had moved to the floor now, as well, Simmons casually leaning her back against Fitz’s legs as they sat next to Skye and Bobbi. From the pilot’s seat, Trip lets out a laugh.

“What? It’s a serious question, guys. Superheroes are actual things that exist. Who knows,” says Skye in a hushed voice, “something might happen to us while out on the field. Or in the lab!” she gasps, looking at Fitzsimmons with wide eyes.

Simmons rolls her eyes at her. “Oh, please, Skye; d’you think we’d be careless enough that we might ever get contaminated or infected by—“ and she pauses then, realizing what she’d just said. Skye raises an eyebrow at her, and she shrinks back.

“Oh.”

“See? We work with weird crap all the time! We might even have powers right now, and we just don’t know it.” Skye looks at all of them with pure wonderment, but only blank stares greet her back. “Come on, work with me, guys.”

“Okay,” Bobbi says to humor her, “let’s say we _do_ have superpowers. What would my superhero name be?”

Skye pauses for a moment and evaluates Bobbi. _Skilled fighter, crazy good with those metal stick thingies—I don’t know what they’re called—but then there’s the weird sexual-tension-thing she has with Hunt—_ she thinks, and her eyes light up.

“Mockingbird.”

“Mockingbird? How do you figure?”

“Well, you’re good at combat, like, crazy badass good,” and Bobbi smiles at that, “and you’ve got those really cool stick things that you use all the time, which kind of make you look like a bird.”

“Why a mockingbird?”

“Because you and Hunter _mock_ each other all the time.” Skye grins. “I know that’s not really how the mockingbird got its name, but—“

“No, it’s cool. I like it. Mockingbird.” Bobbi says, testing it out, and she nods, satisfied. “How about the others? What would Trip’s hero name be?”

Skye turns to Trip with the same look she gave Bobbi: eyes squinted, brow furrowed, nose scrunched, trying to look calculating; Trip thinks it’s kind of adorable.

“Noisemaker. Self-explanatory.” she says after a pause.

“ _Hey-ho, friends! The Noisemaker approaches! Careful now, or he’ll win the day!_ ” Trip announces through cupped hands, and everyone laughs at that. 

They continue on like this for the other members of the team; May is obviously The Cavalry (though they’d never let her hear them call her that), Skye gets the name CyberCat, Bobbi insists that Hunter is unworthy of a hero name (and besides, Hunter’s name is already a pretty cool hero name in itself), Coulson gets A.C., Simmons is Dr. Sunshine, Mack is the MACK-hanic, and Fitz, of course, gets the name Monkey-Man.

“Monkey-Man? Really, Skye?” says Fitz.

“This coming from the man who named a gun, ‘Night-Night’.” Simmons mutters under her breath.

“It’s like Spider-Man, but with monkeys!” Skye exclaims, and even Fitz had to admit that despite the silly name, monkey-like abilities _would_ be cool. He throws his hands up and concedes. “Alright, Monkey-Man it is!”

Simmons grins and lists the names down in a little notebook; they didn’t need them (at least, not for the moment), but she thinks it’s nice—candid, even—and sweet.

Skye peeks at the list, smiling. “Saving them for future reference, Simmons?”

She nods and shows her the list. “They  _are_ quite silly, I know, but they’re true to each of us, and perhaps, in a way… I thinks we _are_ heroes. People like the Avengers were heroic and brave, sure, but I believe that the people left behind in their wake should be honored, as well.”

From the front seat, Trip laughs.

“Look at us, talking ‘bout honor and battle.”

“By Simmons’s definition, what does that make us, Trip?” Bobbi asks, and somehow, all of them know the answer before he even replies.

“Big damn heroes.”

 

 

**_3\. well now, i get low and i get high, and if i can't get either, i really try. got the wings of heaven on my shoes; i'm a dancin' man and I just can't lose._ **

It’s late in the evening by the time the five arrive at The Cottage, and soon they get themselves settled in and toured around by Agent Bobby Koenig (“Nice name,” Bobbi had remarked upon meeting him). He meets them at the field where Trip landed the quinjet and takes them first up a hill to the main building, where a lab and office were set up, then down to the safe house where they have their dinner.

After eating, they all head to the lounge to relax. Bobbi pulls out her book again, Fitz and Simmons sit at a table with a chessboard they’d found lying around, Trip grabs some biscuits to munch on, and Skye shoots Coulson a text to say they’d arrived at The Cottage. As soon as she puts her phone down, however, she begins to get antsy, because the room is quiet and everyone’s busy and this is _not_ how a group of friends should behave while on holiday.

Skye can tell that Trip notices the tension, can see him glance at the others every now and then, as if he was expecting something to happen.

She turns her eyes to Bobbi, who is _still_ reading despite the fact that the book is only 200 pages long and she’s been reading it all day and she _definitely_ should have finished it by now. Bobbi catches her looking, and they both turn away, embarrassed.

Trip, seeing this interaction, shifts in his chair, and the two women turn their eyes to him, curiosity on their faces. He tilts his head to Fitzsimmons, then to the sound system sitting against the wall, and Skye gets his message loud and clear, standing to head over to the speakers.

Everyone looks up from their activities as the intro of ‘Stayin’ Alive’ begins to play over the sound system, and as the first riffs of the song hit their ears, Skye grins and taps her foot along to the music.

The music is infectious, and so is her smile, so when Skye walks over to his spot by the window, Trip sets the Tupperware down and lets her lead him to the small patch of empty floor next to the speakers. After a moment, Bobbi decides she’s done reading for the day, and stands up to join them.

It takes Skye a whole chorus of self-control before she dances over to Fitz and Simmons, who have stopped playing and turned to watch.

“Come on!” Skye cries over the music.

She takes one of their hands in each of hers and pulls them up to join, but when they shake their heads, Skye nods, and Bobbi and Trip, who had snuck up behind them a few seconds ago, push them out of their chairs.

“Hey!” they both say, and the other three laugh.

“Sorry, guys! There’s no escaping the impromptu Bee Gees dance party!”

Skye grips their hands tight as they regain their balance, but Bobbi and Trip grab their other hands and link up into what Trip would later on call ‘the grooviest dance circle the universe has ever seen’.

When the song repeats over, Skye breaks the circle to change to a playlist, but Bobbi pulls her back in again and begins to sing along to the music. The third time, the others join in, and by the fifth play, the group is glad there aren’t any cranky neighbors to force them to turn down the music, because each one is singing at the top of their lungs. There’s no need to yell, and they all know it, but the Bee Gees are loud and in their ears, assuring them that they were stayin’ alive, and for tonight, at least, as they feel the music in the air and the energy in their veins, they actually believe it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening, as they’re all upstairs getting ready for bed, Simmons is walking along the hallway to head back to her room when a voice from inside the bathroom makes her stop in her tracks. Curiosity taking over, she presses her ear to the door, listening hard, and through the sound of shower water falling, she hears it:

“Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother, you're stayin' alive, stayin' alive…”

 _Oh, Trip,_ she thinks, and steps into her room, but she’s barely through the door before she catches herself humming along, too, and she smiles to herself before slipping into the covers and switching off the lamp.

 

 

**_4\. one more day of perfect terror, close my eyes and i'm still there, wrapped in water. my eyes explode with all this light, the taste, the smell, into the night._ **

The next day, the group decides to go down to the beach. The air is warm and the skies clear, and even from the safe house a few hundred meters away, Bobbi can feel the waves calling out to her, inexplicably loud and crashing in her ear. Trip suggests they make a day out of going down there, so after breakfast, they all head upstairs to get their things ready.

Before they leave, Skye quietly approaches Fitzsimmons, makes sure they’re okay. They insist they’re fine, just that they can’t go into the water quite yet, but Skye hears the newfound firmness in both of their voices, can see their faces stiffen a little bit more, and she realizes the last thing these two need is any more pity than what they’ve already had to deal with. She nods in understanding, and they go on their way.

They have to walk through the jungle a few minutes to get to the beach, but at the first sliver of sand they see, they race to the light, and when they emerge from the trees, the beautiful panoramic spectacle hits them full force. 

Skye and Trip find that they can no longer resist the allure of the water sparkling before them, and they drop their bags and sprint towards the ocean with reckless abandon; arms wide, cheers already lost in the wind. Bobbi follows them at a normal pace, and when she reaches the ocean, she feels it welcome her back like an old friend.

Fitz and Simmons spread out a few towels on the sand, piling their stuff off to the side. They settle down on the towels, leaning back against their arms as they watch the others wading through the water. 

Fitz pulls out a packet of cookies, and Simmons reprimands him, going on about how they’d just eaten breakfast and _honestly, Fitz, haven’t you had enough of this junk food by n—_ but she stops when Fitz wiggles a chocolate chip cookie in her face because she can see that it’s the chewy kind that she likes best and he’s looking at her with the most _ridiculous_ expression that she just can’t help but lo—

She darts forward, catching the cookie in her mouth. “Fine,” she mumbles, as he passes her another, “just because we’re on vacation.” They laugh, and fall into a comfortable silence for a while, each wrapped in their own thoughts. 

“D’you think we’d ever be able to get in there again?”

“What?”

“The ocean. D’you think…” and he trails off then, because he doesn’t know what else to say. 

He still has nightmares about the day he and Simmons almost died. Not that they don’t face near-death situations in the field, but this one was different. He can still describe in perfect detail the way she’d been sleeping, the way the bubbles outside the window floated up to the surface, can still remember the exact shade of blue the water was in, and how her eyes went dark when she realized they both wouldn’t make it up unscathed. He doesn’t dream about the ocean trying to crush him to death, no; he dreams about the sorrow that stopped his breath long before a single drop of water had even touched him. 

Jemma shrugs and pulls up her legs, wrapping her arms around the knees as she stares out at the horizon. “Honestly… I don’t know. Haven’t really thought about it; so much has happened since then that I didn’t even _consider_ I’d be near the ocean again.”

She squints her eyes at their three friends playing in the distance. Now that the topic had been brought up, she observes how carefree and unperturbed they behaved in the water. She wonders what it would be like to feel the water around her again without the tightness in her chest that comes along.

A distant memory of Fitz and herself going swimming at the Academy suddenly comes to her mind. They’d had swimming lessons, of course, but sneaking into the pool late at night, evading guards, professors, and fellow students along the way was a completely different experience.

She looks to Fitz and nudges him with her elbow. “D’you remember our Academy tradition at the swimming pool?” and he nods. The first time they’d snuck into the SHIELD Academy pool late at night, they did to challenge themselves, but, much like the boiler room, they soon turned it into a regular occurrence, meeting up after particularly tough tests to have snacks, dip their feet in the water, maybe swim if they felt like it, but mostly just to talk. And talk they did.

“How could I forget? Still haven’t forgiven you for pushing me into the pool that one time.” he murmurs, and both laugh at the memory as Simmons reaches for the food basket (those _bloody_ cookies).

“I kind of miss that. Are you up for going over there? Up to our ankles will be fine.” says she, and he nods, because there’s a curious glint in her eye that is keeping his fear at bay. They walk to the shore, and along the way their hands interlock; both understand that there’s no romance in the gesture, only promise.

They reach the waves, and the seemingly infinite expanse of water greets them, and even though they’re the ones looking down at it, they both feel as though the ocean is giving them a stare-down, trying to judge whether or not they were worthy to step in and not be swallowed whole.

Finally, a drop of water splashes onto Fitz’s foot, and somehow that gives him courage; the sea was inviting them in, so he nods at her and she nods at him and they both close their eyes and grip their hands tight and suddenly their feet are soaking in the cold saltwater. 

They’re half afraid that they’ll shrink back and recoil, but they open their eyes and stand there for a moment, with wide eyes and even wider mouths, the realization of what they’d done hitting them a little later than expected.

“We did it.” says Fitz. 

She echoes it back to him, her voice breathless. “We did it!” 

“WE DID IT!” he cheers, and suddenly she shrieks and jumps up, limbs clinging to him in a giant bear hug. He sways off balance, and suddenly they’re falling back down onto the sand. “Oof!” he lets out a breath.

“Sorry.” says Jemma sheepishly, climbing off him and brushing the sand off her arms, “Guess I got a bit excited.”

“Guess I wouldn’t want to be near you when you get _really_ excited, then.” he bites back, and she smacks his arm, grinning.

“Shut up. That was huge.”

“Yeah, it was.” and he pauses, because she’s breathless and her hair’s disheveled and there’s sand all over her cheek, but her eyes are alight and her smile is contagiously beautiful and she is so unbelievably _radiant_ that he can’t help but stare, but he manages to regain his composure and grin back.

“We did it.” he repeats, and she hasn’t yet grown tired of hearing it, doesn’t think she would ever get tired of hearing it.

“We did it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, what are Fitzsimmons doing?” says Bobbi, squinting at the two figures by the shore.

Skye hops off Bobbi’s back, shielding the sun from her eyes. Fitzsimmons are standing and staring out at the water, hands gripped tight, and her heart warms at the sight. _They are too cute_.

Trip looks at Skye, and she is surprisingly calm. “Should we stop them?” he asks, as the three watch Fitz and Simmons nod at each other.

Skye shakes her head and says “Chill, dude. They’re okay.” and when Fitz and Simmons gleefully jump up into a hug, Skye looks at Trip with smugness plastered all over her face.

“See?”

 

 

**_5\. the sun set too soon tonight; now we are in the last of light. far gone is the golden hour, the dark could never dim your eyes._ **

“You know, Trip, you never told us where this island actually is.” Simmons remarks as the five of them sit and watch the sunset together.

After lunch, they’d decided to have some fun on the beach, playing ball and building sandcastles. Trip even offered to let them bury him into the sand, so the team dug a deep hole, had Trip sit in it, and then covered it up again so Trip’s head was the only thing peeking out of the sand. Needless to say, they’d taken a lot of photos with Trip’s head to email to the rest of the team ~~and for leverage~~.

As the sunset rolled on, they’d dug him back out and sat along the beach, watching the last rays of sunlight for the day ooze out of the horizon.

Trip nods thoughtfully at her observation, his mind a million miles away. “Yeah. Did that on purpose, actually.”

“How come?” asks Skye, curiosity building up inside her, as well. “Coulson’s orders?”

Trip shrugs. “Nah, just me. I wanted to see how long the four of you would go before realizing you had no idea where you were all this time.

“I think not knowing is actually good for you. All you see—that’s all the information you get. You guys don’t know where you are or how far away from home this place is, or even what’s on the other side of this island. Gives you a lotta time to stop worrying about your surroundings and start worrying about yourselves—and each other. And it looks like it’s working, from what I’ve seen.”

Everyone watches him as he speaks—it was always fascinating to hear Trip’s random spouts of wisdom.

“Looks like all those fortune cookies are startin’ to get to ya.” Skye jokes.

“Yeah; their rice meals aren’t bad, either.”

Everyone laughs at that, and Fitz grins and says, “Hey, look at us; all smiley and everything.”

“We should take a photo.” Skye suggests. “Coulson and the others’ll be glad to see us like this.” she continues, but Bobbi shakes her head.

“I don’t think we should.”

When the others turn to her, she shrugs. “I just think this moment is too beautiful for us to be preoccupied with taking photos.”

They all nod in understanding and fall silent. There’ll be other sunsets, and other tranquil moments, but this one is particularly magical; and when they return to carry on the fight at SHIELD, sometimes they’ll need a sunset like this to get through the day, so they pour it into a bottle, seal it up, and label it _theirs_. 

 

 

**_6\. cause she's just like the weather, can't hold her together; born from dark water, daughter of the rain and snow._ **

Skye hates admitting it to herself, but she is utterly and hopelessly lost.

After their beach day yesterday, they had all decided to get some rest the next day. Bobbi had slept in till noon, Trip was in the lounge playing video games with Koenig, and Fitz and Simmons had gone up to the lab to check out the facility.

Skye had stayed in her room almost the whole morning, sending photos and videos to the team at The Playground, browsing through the Internet, and downloading music. Her computer skills may not have been needed lately, but it felt good to sit and mindlessly jam out and look at funny cat pictures. In a way, it reminded her of the old days, where it was just herself, her van, and the asphalt rolling under the tires.

After a quick lunch, Skye left the house and headed to the forest to explore. She left her phone with Trip, explaining that she had had enough technology for the day and just wanted to take a walk for a bit.

Big mistake.

Stepping around a cluster of trees, she tries to look up at the sky to see where the sun is; perhaps she can try and make her way west to the beach, but the jungle canopy is too thick; what little light that surrounds her comes at her from every direction.

After ten minutes of aimless wandering, Skye tries a different approach. “Alright,” she says, and stops at a tall, sturdy tree, “let’s see if all my SHIELD survival training comes in handy.” she says and begins to climb to the top to get a good vantage point (or at least a glimpse of the sun’s position in the sky.).

She’d gone up a few meters, so she turns to look at the ground below her. _Yes! Progress_ , she thinks as she sees how high she’d reached. She returns to her climb when she spots a branch nearby; she reaches her arm toward it.

She manages to grip it and she hoists herself up, but as her foot lifts off the dent that’s supporting it, her fingers slip off the branch, and she hits the ground on her back. “Ow! Damn it!” She tries to get to her feet, using her arms to pull herself up, but finds she can’t because of a sharp pain in her right arm; it makes her collapse back down to the ground. She checks her arm, and finds a gash on it.

“Okay, seriously?!” she cries to the empty forest. “It’s not enough that I got lost with no phone and no way to get help; I had to slash my arm, too?” she grumbles, cursing whatever higher power gave her such a fate. She manages to get to her feet using her good arm and leans against the tree, unbuttoning her shirt and wrapping it around her wounded arm to stop the bleeding.

“Stupid tree.” she mutters, kicking the fallen branch away.

She stands and steadies herself when she notices the sky is getting dark. _The group’s gonna look for me, right?_ she thinks, and the thought helps her regain her strength. She begins to run in a single direction, calling for help, trying to find a distinctive light source in the forest. She might find the office (or better, the safe house) if she looks for signs of life.

Half an hour had passed and the sky had grown dark before Skye slows down, frustrated and exhausted. She tries to stop her heart from racing and convinces herself that the team would find her eventually. She thinks of the four of them (and maybe Koenig) back at the house, probably worried sick. At least she’d told Trip where she was going. They’re probably looking for her right now, and the thought provides a small measure of comfort.

Finally, she hears a voice in the distance. “HEY! I NEED HELP! WHOEVER’S OUT THERE! PLEASE?” Skye shouts. She stumbles around trying to locate the source, and soon she hears a voice calling her name.

“SKYE?”

“I’M HERE! I’M OVER HERE!” she cries, and waves her left arm back and forth.

A patch of light blinds her momentarily, and when she regains her sight, a figure emerges from a nearby clump of trees. “Bobbi!” sighs Skye, “I’m so glad to see you!”

“What happened? Are you hurt?” she asks, rushing up to her. Skye loses her balance for a moment, but Bobbi carefully steadies her.

“Yeah. Cut my right arm. How’d you find me?” breathes Skye.

“We were getting worried when you didn’t come back by sunset. We had no way of contacting or even _tracking_ you, so, naturally, we went off to find you. Easy there,” Bobbi says, adjusting her flashlight as she and Skye step over a tree root.

“Yeah, shouldn’t have left my phone with Trip. Sorry for stressing you out. And thanks. For coming to get me.” Skye laughs.

“No problem. We look out for our own.” Bobbi grins, and she and Skye amble across the forest floor, making their way back home.

 

 

**_7\. i can see the rays of sunshine; there ain't no sign of rain… give a little love, it’ll all come back._ **

The next morning, they all stay in to relax and watch over Skye. She had insisted she’d be fine, and that she didn’t need them to look after her, but _Doctor_ Simmons had assured her everyone was happy to stay and keep her company, so Skye begrudgingly lets Jemma fuss over her for the day. 

When Fitz and Bobbi enter Skye’s room with a stack of board games (“Monopoly? For real, guys? Do you _want_ to break the team up?” Skye cries incredulously upon further inspection of the stack), Jemma goes downstairs to check on Trip, who’s cooking lunch. “How’s it going?” she asks, descending the steps.

Trip is straining the water from a pot of mac and cheese. “All good down here. How do you feel about tomato soup?”

“Sounds great! Need any help?”

“I’m all right with the soup and mac and cheese. Could use a hand with the iced tea.” says Trip, and he points to the bag of Lipton’s, a large jug, and some lemons sitting together on the countertop.

Simmons nods, grabs a knife from the rack, and begins to slice up the lemons. “I’ll give you a pass on the iced tea because it’s hot out.” she says quietly and Trip chuckles at that, joining her on the counter to chop up some herbs.

“How’s our girl?” he asks. 

“She’s still a bit tired, but after we patched her up yesterday she’s pretty much back to normal now. Thank God.” says Jemma, and she walks over to the fridge to get ice.

“Well, I’m glad that we have a doctor around to take care of us.”

Simmons rolls her eyes at him, but he can see that she’s smiling. “Oh, please. None of that. We _all_ take care of each other.”

“Still, it’s nice to know we have someone who can fix us up if we need it. Not just physically, either.”

“How do you mean?”

Trip pauses over the pile of cut-up greens. “Your cheerfulness. It’s kind of infectious.” and Jemma blushes at that.

“Well, _you’re_ a pretty positive person yourself."

“Huh.” says Trip after a thoughtful pause. “I guess I am, aren’t I? Never really noticed it before. With all the stuff going down at SHIELD, I haven’t really paid attention to my own behavior lately.”

“Well,” she pats his arm as she reaches for the jug on the counter, “for the record, _I_ think _you’re_ the most cheerful of the bunch. You’re always so relaxed and resilient, it’s kind of amazing.” and again, Trip laughs.

“See? You’re proving my point!” squeaks Simmons, a huge grin on her face.

They finish getting everything prepared and bring the dishes to the dining table nearby, setting them in the middle. Trip had already fixed the place settings, so Jemma grabs the small vase of flowers from the countertop and sets it at the end of the rectangular table. “There.” she says, satisfied with the arrangement.

“Perfect final touch, Simmons. If you’ll excuse me,” Trip bows with mock formality and starts climbing up the steps two at a time, calling out “Lunch! Everybody grab some lunch! We’ve got a special meal for you guys today!”

Trip returns with the group in tow, grinning as he presents them to Simmons with a flourish. “What’s up with him?” Skye asks as Fitz draws the chair back for her to take a seat.

“Today’s a good day. He’s having fun, let him be.” Jemma reprimands Skye jokingly.

From across the table, Trip’s grin grows wider.

 

 

**_8\. some are scared to fly so high; well, this is how we have to try… brother, brother, we all see your hiding out so painfully. see yourself come out to play._ **

“How are you feeling about this vacation so far?” Skye asks Fitz as they sit at the house’s balcony that evening. They’d slipped their legs between the bars of the railing and they’re dangling them off the edge as they lean back to look up at the stars.

“It’s fine. I mean—I’m—I’m having a good time.” Fitz says, shrugging.

“You’ve been pretty quiet. What’s on your mind?”

Fitz sits up straight and begins fiddling with the bars of the railing. “It’s just… have you noticed if Jemma’s been acting troubled, lately?”

Skye sits up, as well, concern on her face. “Why? Is anything wrong?”

“Just worried about her. You know how I can be; sometimes I overanalyze things.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. She’s fine.”

“Are you?”

Fitz can tell Simmons has put her up to this; he can tell by how hard she’s pressing him, but he doesn’t care because Skye will be Skye in any given situation, even when under a guise, so he trusts her to be completely honest with him, even more than he does Jemma, because sincere smiles and kind words are not enough to conceal the fact that she sugarcoats everything when it comes to him.

“I’m fine. Just thinking about—about a—um—about a million different things, actually.” says Fitz, and it’s true; he’s thinking about Jemma and his affliction and SHIELD and the pod and the way his heart jumped to his throat when he gave Jemma that air device; and even with their progress he still can’t see past the giant hole that was blown in his life when the pod fell into the water.

“You wanna talk about it?” Skye asks, gently placing a hand on his wrist.

He hesitates for a moment before speaking. “Do you—D’you think the only reason Coulson’s still keeping me around is out of consideration for my feelings?" 

Skye’s eyebrows shoot up at that, and alarm crosses her face “Fitz, no—“

“Please, just—tell me—tell me what you _really_ think. You’re one of the most perceptive people I know. Please don’t lie to me.” and Skye curses the fact that her two best friends are so stubborn and uncommunicative with each other. She loves them both, but she can’t continue being their middleman for much longer.

“I just—I feel like I haven’t been of much use to the team, y’know?” he continues. ”I don’t want to feel like a burden, so if I’m not being useful, I might as well leave. And Simmons keeps insisting they all want me around, but I know she’d never say anything bad about me to my face, so I just...” he trails off, shaking his head.

“Is that why you’ve been so quiet lately? Because you don’t think we value what you have to say?” Skye asks, and when he nods, she leans forward and throws her arm around him.

“Fitz, don’t even think for one second that any of us don’t think you’re useful to the team. We all love and care about you, Simmons most of all. You’re a hero, Monkey-Man.”

She draws back from him and places a hand on his arm. “And we see you and Simmons getting better, Fitz. And looking, like, super cute while doing it.”

“Oh, yeah. The beach. You saw that?”

“Yeah.”

Fitz laughs shakily and wipes his face with his sleeve. All these months, he’d been feeling like the rest of the team saw him as a burden, treating him like he was gonna break. Even Simmons, who had been in the pod with him, had it better; she didn’t have to deal with having a damaged brain.

“Thanks.” he mumbles.

“You’re welcome.” she smiles, before a thought occurs to her; she lightly smacks his arm. “Oh, right, I’ve got a song for you.”

“Sorry, a what?”

“A song. That I think you should hear. Hang on, it’s in my phone.”

Skye reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone and cords, but Fitz says “No, just leave it on loudspeaker, please.” because when Skye had hugged him, he’d seen Jemma in the garden below, grinning up at him; and even though he can’t see her now, he knows she’s still there listening, and he wants this song to belong to all of them. He’d received far too much comfort and reassurance from the people around him and Jemma had received far too little; he knows the darkness inside of her is covered by a smile that’s a little too wide and eyes that light up a little too bright, so he tries to make her feel a little less empty by giving her laughs, memories, distractions…

A song.

“Okay.” says Skye, and she and Fitz lean back again to enjoy the breeze on their faces, the trees rustling lazily, and the stars glittering above them. “Ready?” she says, and Fitz waits a moment to swing his feet back and forth off the edge.

He nods.

Skye presses play.

 

 

**_9\. when i was lost you thought me a beautiful find. sometimes i think of you sleeping, so sleep for a while._ **

The waves crash along the shore and the wind whips and cracks as the smooth sand of the beach is disrupted by a figure treading along the shore. The moonlight glints off her face and she looks out at the waves. More than ever, Bobbi Morse wonders where in the world she is, and where in the world she needed to be.

For the past few days, she’d tried to delve into this vacation Coulson had so generously offered them, and she enjoys being with her teammates, sure, but even after three and a half days on this island, she knows she still holds that uneasiness around her.

She knows that Skye can see it, because she’d seen the girl give her curious looks over the course of the week, but she’d never approached Bobbi about it. _One day, that girl’s going to be a force to be reckoned with_ , she thinks, and smiles. Skye’s tenacity often impresses her—even reminds her of her younger self at times. 

She continues her walk along the beach. She’d left her slippers by the path leading back home, so the sand fills the space between her toes with every step she takes, and as the wind blows harder against her, she wraps her shawl around herself tighter.

She glances up at the open sea again, and her first meeting with Hunter comes to her mind. Their marriage had ended badly, but she’s still quite fond of the guy; it helps that he acts as her verbal punching bag (that occasionally punches back) around all the time. Truthfully, though, she’s glad that he stuck around, because under all the tension and the bickering and the complicated things, she still considers him a friend.

Her thoughts wander to SHIELD, and to Coulson’s team. She’s completely content there, content that her skills were being put to good use, but she begins to wonder how long it’d last; the world is changing and turning, and while SHIELD is trying to pick up after it, she sometimes asks herself who would pick up after SHIELD. She knows this is only the beginning, and she is terrified as ever.

She thinks about Triplett and Fitzsimmons, her other companions on this strange little getaway. She was pleasantly surprised when, in her first few weeks at SHIELD, Trip and Simmons in particular exuded so much optimism in the face of a crumbling civilization. Both, she’d learned, had gone through a lot during the collapse of SHIELD, and she feels strangely proud of them, proud that they remain strong despite their suffering.

Upon hearing Fitz’s story from Hunter and Mack one day, her immediate reaction was pity. She knows, from the way Skye and Simmons talked about him, that he had a brilliant mind, and that he was unjustly attacked. Sometimes she’d catch Fitz slowly make his way to the back of the group when Coulson made announcements to the team. She wishes she could help, but she’d realized the only way to help Fitz is to be there for him, and to not treat him like he was fragile. He certainly didn’t want anyone doting over him all the time, and from what she could see, he definitely didn’t need it.

The wind slaps at her face again, and she shivers, deciding it was time to head back to the house. Before that, though…

She glances around her for a moment—just two quick looks left and right—then steps into the water, letting the cold saltwater lap at her toes. She shuts her eyes and stays there for a few moments, feeling the ebb and flow of the waves beneath her.

The rest of the world floats far away from Bobbi’s mind, and she lets herself wander, lingering on the sensation the water provided her toes. The earth is silent, at least for now, and she allows it, and herself, a moment of peace. There would be plenty of time for worldly concerns the next day, and the day after that, but tonight it’s just the moonlight, the sand, the waves, and the woman trying to find her place.

And tonight, with the light in her eyes and stillness in her blood, Bobbi Morse finally belongs.

 

 

**_10\. i knew i found what i was looking for, sitting indian-style on the kitchen floor… all of this is passing us too quick for regrets._ **

Skye is beyond excited.

Earlier that day, she’d texted Coulson, asking if the rest of the team at the Playground wanted to have a video call with them. Coulson had agreed it was a great idea, and after having settled on a time with Skye, he’d notified May, Hunter, and Mack; they were all at the Playground, and, with no missions and no new leads, Coulson had rounded them up to catch up with the team.

When it’s ten minutes before the agreed time (nine o’clock in the morning at the island), Skye runs upstairs to gather the team members on her end.

“Come on, guys! Video call with Coulson and the others!” she calls as she paces down the hall.

“What?” asks Fitz as he peeks his head through his doorway. He’d just woken up, and he is still sporting his monkey pajamas.

Skye stops at his door. “We’re FaceTiming with Coulson in a few minutes. Come on! It’s all set up downstairs. Trip’s already there. We’re about to connect in a few.”

Simmons emerges from her room, still drying off her hair with a towel. “Excellent!” she exclaims, and walks toward the stairs.

Skye knocks on Bobbi’s door next. “Bobbi? We’re about to have a video chat with Coulson and the rest of the team at the Playground.” she says, and knocks again. A second later, she hears a thud, and then a groan.

“Gimme five minutes; I’ll meet you downstairs.”

~~~~~~~~~~

When Bobbi makes her way to the lounge, she sees the team huddled on the carpet, facing the TV. “Sorry for holding you up. Are you connected yet?”

Skye shakes her head. “We’re just waiting for Coulson to give the all-clear. Come on, sit over here.” and she pats the space next to Trip and herself. Bobbi takes her place on the floor while Skye begins to type on her laptop, which is hooked up to the TV.

Skye’s phone buzzes, and she picks it up and glances at it. “They’re ready at their end. Connecting… now!” says Skye, and she presses the return key with a flourish.

Each of them stares at the screen, waiting for the other group to appear. After a few moments, their teammates’ faces appear on the TV. They are in Coulson’s office, huddled around the big monitor.

“Hi guys.” says Coulson, holding up a hand.

“Hello, Director Coulson!” they say in unison.

“Whoa. What’s gotten into you? You all seem awfully happy.” Mack remarks, and the five grin at each other. 

“It’s like they’re completely different people.” Hunter adds, and squints his eyes, looking at them as if they’re fishes in a tank.

“Oh, don’t start with that, Hunter. These are the effects of just a few days without you. See how much we’re smiling?” smirks Bobbi, and everyone groans, May most of all. “Guys!”

Both Bobbi and Hunter hold their hands up, but grin. “Alright!” “Okay!”

“So how’s the vacation so far? Having fun over there?” asks Mack, and they all nod. “Hang on, I’ll send you some photos.” Skye begins to type at the laptop again.

“What’s the status of The Cottage?” says Coulson. That _is_ their ‘mission’, after all. Or it was, for the first hour they were on the island.

“No hangar yet, so we just landed on an empty field. Safe house is good, as you can see.” Trip smiles and gestures to the lounge behind them.

“And the base itself?” says May.

“Small building, with the main office, a stockroom, and a lab.” Simmons quips, and Fitz adds, “Oh, but it needs more equipment.” and Simmons nods at him.

“I’ll make a note of that.” Coulson says. “So… how are you?”

“All good, all good.”

“Did you get the photos I sent?” Skye asks, setting her laptop to the side.

“Opening them right now.” he says, and a few seconds later, the four of them erupt in laughter.

“Which one are you looking at?” says Skye, suddenly worried she’d accidentally sent her selfies.

They’re still laughing when Hunter chokes out, “Trip… your head…” and the five grin at that; they already know which one he’s talking about: it’s the one at the beach, when they’d buried Trip up to his neck in sand. All of them were huddled around him, hands laid on top of his head while Skye held the camera.

Trip chuckles at that. “They saw a chance and they took it.”

They scroll through the rest of the photos, of their little lunch picnic at the beach, of Skye after having been treated by Simmons when she’d cut her arm, of Fitz, Skye, and Bobbi playing board games, and of their cute little comfort food lunch, making comments at some of them. They share stories about their vacation along the way, and the agents at the Playground are relieved and glad to see their friends having a good time.

“So how’s it been over at the Playground?” asks Simmons.

All four on the screen look at each other with a ‘should-we-tell-them?’ expression on each of their faces. Finally, Mack nods and says, “We had a wild night.”

The group at The Cottage raise their eyebrows.

“It’s not a big deal. Hunter, Mack, and Koenig invited us to play video games with them, and the three of them decided to make it…interesting.” Coulson explains. 

“Drinking game?” Fitz says knowingly. He’d had a few of those with the guys, himself.

“Oh yeah. We had to carry them to their bunks and everything. It was _not_ pretty.” Coulson winces.

When Coulson and May had been playing a round, the three guys were behind them chugging at their beer bottles. Coulson and May had been on a particularly tough level, so they’d had to repeat. _Multiple times._ The guys behind them had downed as much as they could while the two weren’t watching.

“You got any photos?” Trip asks, and Hunter smirks at him.

“Sorry, Trip; you’re not getting away that easy.”

“Damn.” Trip says, and everyone laughs at that.

“Hey, uh, guys, I think we’d better get going.” says Skye abruptly, glancing at the others. 

“Why? What’s up?” asks May.

“Lunch.” Bobbi answers. “We’ve been talking for _hours_.” and the group realizes she was right.

Guess they’d missed each other more than they thought.

So on that note, the two groups say their goodbyes and part ways again. Any more catching up could wait until the five get back; right now their stomachs are grumbling and yesterday’s leftovers are waiting for them, and by the time Fitz sets the reheated pasta in front of them, they’re a million miles away from SHIELD—just five friends back on their island again.

 

 

**_11\. one night he wakes, strange look on his face. pauses, then says, ‘you're my best friend’, and you knew what it was, he is in love._ **

That night, Simmons wakes with a scream.

Her door slams open a few seconds afterwards as Fitz tumbles inside. He flies to her side at once, hands on her face, trying to find out what’s wrong. He feels her sweat under his fingers and tries to smudge it away. 

“Jemma? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” and she shakes her head, because other than the heat and her racing heart, she’s fine, and she _should_ feel fine, but all she can process is complete and utter terror.

She draws in a breath to try and stop herself from panting; somehow that, and perhaps the fact that she isn’t alone, helps.

“F—Fitz.” says Jemma, and it’s not just acknowledgement of his presence; her hands tremble and the air comes in desperate gulps, and she curses her mind for betraying her; her usually-brilliant and reliable mind is caving, and she knows it, but for the past few months, she’s been trying to clamp a lid on it because everyone needed her: Coulson, May, Skye, Fitz,…

Fitz.

“Fitz.” she whispers again, and the sound of his name gives her strength. He looks at her and sees the emptiness in her eyes, sees the fear and desolation and helplessness at once; he’s been there before and the feeling makes him want to explode like a time-bomb, but somehow he’s alive, because when the nightmares come, she is there to ward them off with him.

He pulls her closer to him, enveloping her in a hug like she always does when _he’s_ the one waking up shaking, drenched in sweat, and he thinks it strange that as he’s holding her, _she herself_ guides him through it from his memories, walking him through every step.

Her chest feels looser and her breathing deeper, but the weight of what she’d gone through is still heavy inside her. She grabs a fistful of his shirt with her numb fingers and he holds her balled fist in his large but incredibly gentle hand, and she doesn’t know why, but it helps, brings the blood and warmth back to her fingers.

When he’s finally satisfied that she’s steady, he releases her, and leans down to look at her face. Her eyes are shut, tears still streaking from the corners of them, but when he whispers her name they flutter open, and she doesn’t know if it’s the tension in the air or the stream of emotions or the way that he looks at her and says her name with so much reverence and adoration that it makes her feel like the most precious being on earth, but she feels the powerful and unexpected urge to kiss him, so she leans forward and softly presses her lips to his.

He expects it to be magical, expects to see fireworks dancing on his eyelids and gusts of wind swirling around them like in the movies, but it’s raw and quiet and when he closes his eyes, all he can see is darkness, but all he can feel is _her_. Her fingers let go of his shirt and climb up his back, tangling them in his curls, and he runs his fingers along her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear.

Both of them stay like that for a while, neither wanting to let go, but the moonlight is finite and it is fast running out, so they draw their lips back and rest their foreheads against each other. Their eyes are close together, and for a long while, they stare at each other curiously, each at a loss for words, each wondering what the other was thinking.

Finally, Fitz breaks their frozen trance by gingerly placing his hand on her cheek. Jemma tries to lean forward to kiss him again; she needs him, and she needs him _now_ , but Fitz pulls back, his lips feathering over her eyelids instead. He takes her hand and grabs the blanket, looking at her almost expectantly.

Jemma nods in understanding and slides under the sheet; he slips in next to her and covers the blanket around them both, and when she curls up into a ball, he wraps his arm around her and holds her as tight as he can.

The morning would hold answers for the both of them, but the moonlight is finite and it is fast running out, so they let the little pools of light illuminate them for the rest of the night. They breathe in a steady rhythm and soon they fall asleep in each other’s arms; no nightmares come for either of them.

 

 

**_12\. i hope that you catch me, 'cause i'm already falling. i'll never let a love get so close; you put your arms around me and i'm home._ **

Fitz is the first one to wake up.

His eyes open from the heat and bright light playing across his eyelids; the sunlight is filtering in and out through the trees swaying in the wind. He holds a hand to his face to shield his eyes, and slides up, leaning against the bed’s headboard. He looks down to the figure sleeping next to him.

She’s pale and pink in the light, and she’s still curled up; one arm under her, and the other clutching at her waist where he’d wrapped his arm around her last night. Her hair falls around her head, and he gently sweeps it back to reveal her face.

 _She looks so different than how she did in the pod_ , he thinks to himself, then forces it out of his mind, resolving not to look back at that day. Talk of that would come, but he doesn’t want it to sully his mind for the time being—this moment was too silent, too peaceful for it to be tainted by even the _memory_ of being in that pod.

She stirs and carefully begins to sit up. “Morning,” Fitz mumbles, and he sees that when she turns to look at him, she’s smiling her radiant smile again. 

“Morning.” she replies quietly, running a hand through her hair. Neither of them knows what else to say; what kind of conversation would you have upon waking after being comforted by your best friend in the night?

And that _kiss_.

Jemma Simmons had kissed a lot of people before; some were so good that she wanted nothing more than to continue (and sometimes she did), some were so bad that she wanted to brush her teeth _twice_ afterwards, and others were somewhere in the middle—not bad, per se, but not particularly extraordinary either. 

Objectively, she thinks her kiss with Fitz falls somewhere between average and amazing; this is what her brain tells her, what her logic concludes; soft lips, hands in the right places—a B-grade kiss, she’d say (though in all fairness, this _was_ Fitz’s first)—but she also can’t shake the way she was so completely enamored in it. 

She can’t ignore the way he’d held her tight, as if his arms were the only thing that could protect her; she can’t ignore the tingling sensation she’d felt when he brushed his fingers across her hair; and she definitely can’t make herself forget the way he’d looked at her before and after the fact. Her parents had told her she was their little gem (hence the name), but the way Fitz looked at her made her feel as if she was gravitonium and he was Ian Quinn; she was new and constantly changing, and he wanted to discover as much as he could about her.

This is how he’s looking at her now—wonderment and adoration and fascination and _marvel_ —and she’s taken out of her thoughts by those gleaming blue eyes. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Fitz says, his voice low, confused.

“Like what?” asks Jemma, and she tilts her head and furrows her brows at him.

“Like… like I’m an 0-8-4.”

Simmons’s eyes widen at that—she’d been looking at him, too, and she was too focused on his face that she’d forgotten: to observe someone staring at you meant that you were staring back.

“I dunno. Why are _you_ looking at me like I’m _gravitonium_?” she fired back with a grin and an eyebrow raise.

“I was just thinking about how peaceful you looked. Didn’t look like you were having any more bad dreams.”

Jemma sits up next to him and nudges him with her shoulder. “I didn’t look like I was having a bad dream because I _wasn’t_.” she says, smiling. She grabs his hand and links their fingers together. “Thank you.”

“You’d do the same if it were me. Hey, in fact, you _did_. A bunch of times actually.” Fitz says, and she lets out a small laugh and leans her head against his shoulder, because Fitz’s nightmares seem so far away; they are all locked tight in the vault at the Playground with Ward, where they belong, and right now, they’re miles from all that; detached and beyond reach.

And maybe her _own_ nightmares are going to come back still, and maybe there’ll be more nights of her waking up panicked and sweating, but her relentless optimism is telling her that they’ll be able to put these behind them, even if the scars don’t disappear completely.

“Still, I’m grateful. I hope you know that.” says Jemma. She leans in to softly press a kiss to his mouth, and she feels his smile form against her lips.

Suddenly she’s struck by a thought and jumps out of bed, hand still grasping Fitz’s. “Hey, where are we going?” he laughs, and Jemma thinks it’s the most beautiful sound, because it’s low and soft and rare and _genuine_ and she can’t help but laugh with him.

“Pancakes!” she exclaims, and he nods and lets her pull him up, but before they leave the room, he stops. The force makes her stumble back a bit, and she turns to him, confused. “Come on, Fitz; we have to finish them by the time everyone else gets up!” but her smile fades upon seeing the shy and scared look on his face. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, and steps closer to him.

“Yeah, um… can I just—before we head down, I just want to know… what exactly is this? Us?” Fitz asks, indicating the space between them. They’d never mentioned his declaration in the pod since the fact, because both were too busy with helping SHIELD and working through their own trauma, but he feels now is the right time to ask her.

For a second Jemma freezes, and she can feel uneasiness running down her spine. _Is it friendship? Is it a relationship? Is it something different altogether?_ She’d been avoiding thoughts of the topic, but she knows she can’t run forever and when they return to SHIELD she knows they won’t be able to discuss it for quite a while.

“I… I don’t know. I wish I had an answer right now, I really do, but… I don’t think the relationship we have with one another falls within the boundaries of any one label.” she says, choosing her words carefully, and Fitz understands. 

“Yeah, well, we’ve always been the strange ones of the lot, you and I.” he says, and it makes her laugh, and for now he’s satisfied with her answer. So what if they couldn’t call themselves lovers or friends or siblings or partners? He reckons they’re a bit of everything, really, but more than anything, they’re just Fitzsimmons—two people making their way through the crumbling universe together. 

And if ‘making their way through the crumbling universe together’ means getting to make pancakes for their best friends, holding each other at night to keep the nightmares away, having arguments about anything and everything, being by each other’s side all the time, and _yes_ , maybe some kissing in between, then count Leo Fitz in; they’ve stuck together all these years, and have grown better because of it—why call it any different?

Jemma tugs at his hand again; he follows alongside her.

 

 

**_13\. things go wrong no matter what i do; now and then it seems that life is just too much, but you've got the love i need to see me through._ **

“We should make a pact.” Skye says later that morning over pancakes; for some reason Fitzsimmons just up and decided to make an entire stack for them, and they’ve only powered through half of it so far.

“A pact?” asks Trip, drinking from his mug of milk.

Skye nods eagerly, looking at each of them. “A promise… to take care of each other after we get back.” and somehow her statement powers the force that hits them: that they aren’t going to stay at The Cottage forever; that there is a SHIELD, and there are people waiting for them back home—people who need them and depend on them.

“We already _do_ take care of each other, don’t we?” says Simmons, but she knows that Skye wants something deeper than that.

“Yeah, but, like…” Skye starts, and she holds up her hands. She wants them to understand, _needs_ them to understand. “I don’t know, I feel like this vacation kind of… brought us together, somehow. Like we’ve gone through some weird spiritual journey together.”

Bobbi knows what Skye means—that their relationships at SHIELD weren’t the same as their relationships now. There are no missions, no ops for them to get caught up in. “I understand. When we were back at The Playground, we’ve always looked at each other as agents—that was our life. We were the specialists, the scientists, the field agents.”

Trip nods and picks up. “And now that we’ve had some time off, we’ve stopped seeing each other for what we can do…”

“…and started seeing each other for who we are.” Fitz finishes, and smiles.

There’s a newfound energy around them now, and they all grin as Skye says, “Let’s do it.”

They all link hands around the table—it’s cheesy, for sure, but they all take it seriously for the time being. Skye begins.

“We promise… to remember this time together and take care of each other when we return home…”

“… to pull each other out when things get rough…” Bobbi continues.

“…to have each other’s backs in the face of danger…” says Trip.

“…to fix each other when we are broken…” smiles Simmons.

“…and to keep each other close, always.” Fitz finishes.

Everyone sits in silence after he’s finished, still grinning at each other. It felt strange, momentous, even, like they’re characters in a movie or television show—Skye even thinks there should be a riveting piece of instrumental music playing in the background—but it’s quiet and it’s refreshing and it’s getting a little awkward, so they break the circle and Trip stands up to go over to the music player and put on some music.

“Oh, doing a repeat of the Bee Gees, are we?” Skye says, rising from her chair. Trip grabs her hand and twirls her around. The others get up and quickly join them.

“Let’s do something a little different this time. Fitzsimmons, put on something… magical.” Bobbi says, and Fitz and Simmons glance at each other with a smile. _Magical, eh?_

“Flo?” asks Fitz.

“Flo.” Jemma nods.

They pick a Florence + the Machine song and hit play, and in that moment, they’re not SHIELD agents or colleagues, or even friends, for that matter; they’re the grooviest dance circle the universe has ever seen, and they just had a cheesy movie moment of friendship, so _hell yeah_ they want to end it by dancing to profoundly happy music.

And that’s just what they do.

 

 

**_14\. this is for the ones who stand; for the ones who try again. for the ones who need a hand; for the ones who think they can_ **

They go down to the beach again that afternoon; the weather is splendid and the sky beautiful as ever, so they pack up a bag (and some snacks, of course), and head out.

The atmosphere is different the second time around; there isn’t this big change inside of them, no switch that is suddenly flipped that causes them to rush off with open arms. They greet the beach like an old acquaintance and casually walk to the spot they’d set up their things before.

“Any of you wanna go in the water?” Skye asks. Simmons raises her hands and gets to her feet. “I’ll go.”

Fitz jerks up a little, and Jemma, ever observant, notices the movement. “I’ll be fine, Fitz. Really.” she says, before he can even let out a word.

Skye nods and links her elbow with Jemma’s. “I’ll take care of her, I promise. We’ll stay in the shallow part.” and he relents and lies flat on the towel, closing his eyes. He listens hard for a few minutes, ready to jump up at the sound of her shriek; when it doesn’t come, he relaxes a little bit more.

He doesn’t realize Bobbi and Trip are still there until he hears Bobbi speak. “They look pretty happy.”

A pause.

“They are.” Trip replies. “Are you?” he asks quietly, and Fitz thinks it should sound confrontational, but somehow Trip makes it seem casual in his own Trip way.

He hears a rustle and feels movement next to him. “Yeah. It was cool of Coulson to let us go.” Bobbi says, and he realizes Bobbi has laid down next to him on the towels.

Another thud comes, on his other side this time, and it tells him Trip has done the same. “Agreed. Although I feel like he had some sort of ulterior motive for this.”

“Not everything has to be a conspiracy, Trip. Maybe Coulson just cares about us.” 

“Maybe. It’s too bad the others didn’t go, though; we coulda had a real nice shindig here. Beach buffet, floating bar…” Trip trails off.

“And have everyone drunk off their asses? You heard what happened at the Playground. Imagine that happening down here.”

“I guess you’re right. Pretty sure you’re just happy not having Hunter around all the time, though.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” and they both laugh.

“Still, it’s kinda cool how out of the whole team, the five of us in particular chose to come here. What does that say about us, I wonder?” Bobbi says.

“Maybe we’re kindred spirits looking for our place. Or maybe we just like the beach.”

“Well, if we _were_ looking for a place, I hope we’ve found it.” she says, and they settle into silence again.

Fitz listens to the waves, listens to the rhythm and the crash and the ebb and flow. He hears Skye and Jemma laughing in the distance, and he hears Bobbi and Trip next to him, breathing, watching the clouds. He lingers in the sound for a while before sleep takes over and he drifts off.

~~~~~~~~~~ 

Fitz wakes about an hour and a half later. Simmons and Skye are still in the water, and Bobbi and Trip are sitting together beside him, eating pizza left over from lunch that day. “Hi, Fitz.” Bobbi says, holding up the plate for him. “Pizza? There’s still plenty left for everyone.”

Fitz grabs a slice and bites the corner of it. “Thanks.” he says, and looks out at the waves, at the two women walking together. “Have they been in there the whole time I was asleep?”

“Pretty much.” replies Bobbi.

“What d’you guys suppose they’re talking about?” he asks.

“I dunno. Girl stuff, I guess. What do _you_ think?” Trip says, and the men turn to Bobbi with eyebrows raised.

“Hey, don’t look at me; we talk about a lot of things!” she says, holding her hands up. 

Fitz peers at her curiously. “D’you talk about us?”

“’Us?’”

“The guys, the men… us.” Fitz clarifies, pointing to himself and Triplett, and Bobbi grins at them, suddenly feeling a bit powerful. The women _do_ talk about the guys at length, but she isn’t about to divulge to them the things the girls thought about the men.

Bobbi pauses. “…no.”

Fitz and Trip speak up at the same time. “I thought we were being honest with each other, Bobbi.” Trip says, and Fitz gives her a disapproving look. “Honestly, how dare you even try that?” and Bobbi laughs.

“Alright, alright, yes; we _do_ talk about you. But that’s all I’m telling you.” and she grins in satisfaction as the other two groan. They’d asked her nicely, but now that she’d refused, they’d never get her to tell them.

“Hey, you guys don’t tell _us_ about your little discussions. And we’re cool with that. Don’t worry, the general consensus is still that you guys are pretty awesome, so you have nothing to worry about."

“Well that’s a relief.” says Fitz, and Trip follows with “Thank God.” but both look at each other, then back to her, and say “But we’re still curious.” in unison. 

“Tell you what,” Bobbi says, putting the plate away, “I’ll let you keep your secrets if you’ll let us keep ours. Don’t forget, I know how to interrogate people.” and she winks at the both of them.

~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Do you wonder what those three are talking about?” Simmons asks curiously, staring into the distance at their three friends at the shore. After receiving no response, she says, “Skye?” eyes still squinted at the other group.

“Skye?” she reaches behind her with her hand, but all she touches is the water. Suddenly, she feels a pair of arms grabbing her by the waist and lifting her up. She yelps and tries to wriggle out of it, but Skye’s having none of that.

“Why don’t we ask them ourselves?” says Skye, and she carries Simmons back to their friends, who are doubling over in laughter.

Fitz takes photo evidence before Skye finally sets her down.

 

 

**_15\. eye to eye we're birds of a feather; one step forward, but two steps are better… there's nothing that's sure to be bigger than this._ **

They decide to spend their last full day at the Cottage in the safe house, enjoying each other’s company. After breakfast, the men remain downstairs to play video games, and the women head to Jemma’s room to talk and hang out.

“So the guys asked me about us yesterday.” Bobbi starts as the three of them sit cross-legged on the bed.

“Oh? In what way?” asks Jemma.

“Eh, you know, they wanted to know if we were talking about them. Told them I’d whip out my interrogation mojo if they kept pressing me for intel.”

“Oooh, nice one, Mockingbird!” Skye cheers and all three of them laugh and exchange high-fives.

“What d’you ladies think _the guys_ say about us, though?” Jemma wonders, and all three dwell on that for a moment.

“Well, if we’re talking about Fitz and Trip, it’s not really that big of a question. This trip—no pun intended—has opened us up a little.”

“A little?” Bobbi raises her eyebrows, and Skye relents.

“Okay, it’s opened us up a lot. Which makes me really happy, but… do you guys wonder how it’ll change the rest of the team? I mean, we’ve changed a _lot_ over this past week, and I’m sure the others left behind have, too. Won’t it be a little weird, getting back to SHIELD, working together with these new experiences we’ve gone through apart?”

Bobbi and Jemma ponder on that. They know, obviously, that they can’t go back to where they were, which is both good and bad, but somehow, they know it’s going to be all right.

“I suppose it’ll take everyone a while to re-learn each other, to see the newness in all of us, but I’m not worried.” Jemma says, and Bobbi continues, “SHIELD’s always been adaptive to its surroundings, and to the different parts inside. Hell, before Hydra resurfaced, your team was very different from what it is now. All we need to do when we get back is reassemble and find our rhythm, find out where we stand.”

“It’ll be okay.” Jemma adds, touching Skye lightly on the shoulder.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” she says, and fiddles with her arm; the cut’s closed now, but the scar is still there.

“How’s your arm, by the way?” asks Bobbi, noticing her touching it.

“Oh, it’s good. Hasn’t been bothering me, thanks to Dr. Sunshine here.” Skye points to Jemma, who replied with an “Aww.” and a smile.

“So, how’s Fitz?” Skye asks casually, in a casual tone, looking over at Bobbi casually. There is nothing casual about the look on her face, and Jemma narrows her eyes at the other two trying to hide their grins.

“He’s _fine_ , but that’s not what you’re asking.” and they giggle.

“We were just wondering if you had anything to tell us before we return to SHIELD tomorrow.” Bobbi calms down enough to say.

“No, not really.” Jemma shrugs, but she can tell they’re on to her. Not that she and Fitz had exactly been hiding anything, but Skye and Bobbi would _definitely_ want to know whether Jemma had been kissing her best friend or not.

She gives up.

“Okay, okay! How did you guys know?” asks Jemma incredulously. They were careful about being too affectionate around the others—they didn’t want to make everyone uncomfortable—and they were _sure_ they hadn’t done anything outside her—

Oh.

The other two grin when they see her face freeze in a shocked expression. Skye, Bobbi, and Trip had woken up early that morning and were getting ready for the day when Skye heard talking and laughing from downstairs. She’d silently walked down a few steps and realized it was Fitzsimmons. Peeking through the railing, she’d seen them making pancakes. And making _out_.

“Pancakes?” Jemma asks, cringing.

“Pancakes.” Skye and Bobbi say in unison, and they laugh as she pulls her knees up and buries her face into them.

“Don’t worry, Simmons, we’re happy for you guys; I’ve shipped you since day one. I totally called it.” says Skye proudly, and Bobbi nods.

“We’re not a couple, though!” Jemma says adamantly.

“Wait, you’re not? What was the deal with the pancakes, though?” Skye says, sadness crossing her features.

Jemma smiles and shrugs. “We’re not a couple, _exactly_. It’s a bit more complicated than that, you see. We don’t know _what_ we are, but we know _where_ we are with each other, and for now, we’re okay with that.”

Skye and Bobbi nod. Both know that feeling; that blurred line between friendship and romance. Neither pretend to understand how Fitz and Simmons work, and how they feel, but they know from their own experiences that trying to define something so beautifully complex won’t end well. So, for the time being, they resolve to let Fitzsimmons be Fitzsimmons, because that’s what everyone’s grown to love and that’s what Fitz and Simmons do best.

 

 

**_16\. just breathe in the air and blink in the light. on my last night on earth, i'll pay a high price to have no regrets._ **

Evening comes, and with it, a sense of melancholy. All five of them spend their last night in the lounge, listening to music, talking. They’re all seated, Fitzsimmons and Trip on the couch, Bobbi on the armchair, and Skye on the floor by the radio.

“Hey, my playlist’s done.” Skye says, grabbing her phone as the songs repeat over. She unplugs the cord from the phone and holds it up. “Anyone want a turn?”

Bobbi holds up her iPod. “I’ll go. I’ve got a song,” and she stands as she and the younger woman switch places. She plugs the cord in and starts the music. 

A song by Noah and the Whale comes up, and Trip, recognizing it, thinks it’s especially poignant and fitting tonight. He begins to sing along, and the others watch as he and Bobbi do an impromptu duet.

Jemma curls up next to Fitz and leans her head on his shoulder; she’ll miss this. She’ll miss the lightweight feeling in the pit of her stomach, she’ll miss the days she doesn’t have to worry about anything, and she’ll miss seeing her friends’ newness; she knows that when they return, they’ll have to face the darkness, and she thanks Coulson for giving them this one week of light.

Fitz wraps his arm around Jemma and kisses her forehead; he’ll miss this. He’ll miss the conversations they all have with each other, he’ll miss the moments they just sit in comfortable silence, just _being_ , and he’ll miss the time they had with each other; he knows that when they return, this group of five will have to disperse and integrate themselves among the others, and he thanks Coulson for giving them this one week of companionship.

Skye pulls her knees up and wraps her arms around them; she’ll miss this. She’ll miss the impromptu dancing and singing, she’ll miss the sounds of the tropics around her, and she’ll miss hearing her friends’ voices free of worry; she knows that when they return, they’ll have to face the sounds of gunshots and combat and building frustration and anger, and she thanks Coulson for giving them this one week of music.

Trip sways as he sings along, enjoying the rhythm of the music; he’ll miss this. He’ll miss the jokes that they’ve shared, he’ll miss the moments they’d just radiate laughter from their bodies, and he’ll miss the grins and smiles and beams from everyone; he knows that when they return, they’ll have to face the solemnity and sobriety of reality, and he thanks Coulson for giving them this one week of laughter.

Bobbi sings the last chorus of the song with as much heart as she could muster; she’ll miss this. She’ll miss the small looks they give to each other, she’ll miss the understanding they all share, and she’ll miss the connection with each other—a bond that transcends even words sometimes; she knows that when they return, things will be messy and hectic again, and she thanks Coulson for giving them this one week of peace.

As they finish the song, they all look to each other and decide that a hug is in order. Each one leaps from their seats and gathers by the radio, throwing their arms around each other and holding each other as tight as they can.

They’ll miss this. 

All of it.

They know that when they return, everything will be messy and complicated again, and they thank Coulson for giving them this one week of solidarity.

They break off and are about to head to bed, but Bobbi stops the other four, saying, “Wait, before we go, there’s one last song I want to play for you." 

Curious, they all turn to her as she beams at them and presses play.

 

 

**_17\. time stands still, beauty in all she is. i will be brave, i will not let anything take away what's standing in front of me._ **

Bobbi begins to sing. 

“The day we met, frozen, I held my breath…” and upon hearing the lyrics, Skye and Trip stand beside her and sing with her. All three look at Fitzsimmons expectantly, so Fitz holds out his hand to her. “May I have this dance?" 

Jemma smiles and takes it, letting him twirl her before she steps closer to him. They begin a slow dance, with the other three watching them, and Fitz thinks it should feel uncomfortable, but somehow, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

They sway in each other’s arms, and it’s in that moment when Jemma feels the overwhelming trifecta of satisfied, exhilarated, and wistful, and she thinks it’s the most beautiful feeling she’s ever felt.

“Jemma,” she hears Fitz whisper low, “sorry for ruining this perfect and quiet moment, but I think I should tell you… that I… I lo—”

Before he can finish, she silences him with a kiss on the mouth. “I know. And I do, too, Leopold Fitz. But if you say it now, I’m _really_ going to ruin the moment with my tears.”

He lets out a laugh. “Okay. I’ll tell you later, then. And tomorrow. And every day.”

She grins and holds him tighter, burying her face in his neck. “All right.” They shut their eyes and continue to sway leisurely.

When the three reach the middle of the song, Trip stands up to dim the lights. When he returns, it’s not to take his seat again, but to offer his hand to Skye. Shocked but delighted, she takes it and lets him lead her to their makeshift dance floor.

“Fitz, look.” Jemma says, and the two pause for a moment to watch their two friends. They grin at each other; the scene can’t get any more magical than this.

The four of them slow-dance for a minute before they glance at each other. Both pairs grin, and Skye and Fitz link their hands together while Jemma and Trip offer theirs to Bobbi.

Smiling, she takes their hands and they form a circle again; all five sway and sing to each other till the song fades out. The end of their week off is almost upon them, but the lights are dimmed, there’s a beautiful song playing, and everyone’s swaying along; the love in the air is clear, thick, and unmistakable, and it settles not just upon them but into them. They feel the new energy around them, feel each particle, each movement, each chill touch them, and in that instant, all five of them _know_ : they are finally ready to return home.

 

 

**_18\. gravity release me, and don’t ever hold me down; now my feet won't touch the ground._ **

They’d finished packing early in the morning, quiet and somber as they checked all their things. Jemma sighs as she looks at her room, neat as when she first came in. She closes the windows, picks up her bag, and shuts the door. “Fitz? All set?” she asks, peeking her head into his room.

Fitz was standing by the bed, gazing outside the window. “Huh? Er, yeah. Hey, you know, it’s strange, but,” he says, bending over to grab his bag, “I’m really gonna miss this room. And yours.” he says with a smile.

“Me too. But life goes on.” says Jemma, taking his hand and leaning against him.

“I know, I just… I never realized we’d all grow so attached to this place.”

“Well, this island is full of surprises. Perhaps, if we ever get to return, we might discover even more.”

“You think we’re ever gonna come back?” he asks hesitantly.

“Oh, yeah. It’s a SHIELD base, so hopefully we’ll have missions here in the future.”

He turns to her, smiling; her joyful spirit still never ceases to astound him. “You’re amazing.”

“So are you.”

“Guys,” Skye interrupts, grinning at the both of them, “Sorry to rain on your parade, but Koenig’s about to have us debrief.”

Fitzsimmons scrunch their noses and tilt their heads at her. “Debrief usually happens when we get back to the Playground.”

“I know, but he wants to say goodbye. He’ll miss having other people around, even if we didn’t get to hang out much with him. Come on!”

The three head downstairs, where Koenig, Bobbi, and Triplett are standing in the living room.

“Guys! Just wanted to have a little debrief, and… to say goodbye. Director Coulson and the others are eager to have you back, so I guess this is it.

“Doctors Fitz, Simmons.” he says, shaking each of their hands.

“Bobbi.” “Bobby.” he and Bobbi exchange a handshake, as well.

“Agent Skye,” he says, extending his hand, but Skye grabs it and pulls him in for a hug. “I’ll miss you too, Skye.”

“Trip, my man.” Koenig turns to Trip, and they bump fists. “CoD later. I’ll be online.”

Koenig walks over to the door and opens it for them. “Alright. Let’s go.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Fitz, could you come over here for a minute?” says Skye.

They are in the quinjet, up in the air, headed back to the Playground, but before they near the mainland, there’s one more thing Skye has to do.

“Why? I’m perfectly comfortable here.” Fitz says. He and Jemma are splayed out on their backs, lying on top of everyone’s bags. Skye had grinned when they did it, exclaiming happily at how much they’ve grown.

Bobbi and Trip are seated at the front, but Trip still wouldn’t let Bobbi co-pilot because she’d see the origin coordinates and ‘it would take away from the experience.’ Bobbi had rolled her eyes playfully, but conceded.

“I know, but we’ve got a surprise for you.” says Skye, and Jemma, Trip, and Bobbi all grin and get to their feet, Trip flipping on a few buttons, including autopilot. The jet gradually begins to slow down to a lower speed, and they work together to sweep the bags away from the middle of the floor.

“Guys? What’s happening right now? What is this?” he says, getting nervous.

They all huddle in front of him, and Jemma steps forward to take his hand. “Fitz, remember when you told Skye about your dream of being able to fly?” and he’s barely begun to nod when understanding hits him, and he remembers the afternoon he and Skye were talking in the lab.

The whole reason this week even happened.

It seems ages away to him now, and he hasn’t even thought of that since then, but now the team’s beaming at him and Trip is walking back to the cockpit to open the upper hatch.

Fitz nods. He feels himself being carefully lifted, and suddenly he’s up in the air.

Everything hits him all at once: the force of the wind, the cold, and the euphoria. He squints his eyes to look below the jet. They are flying low above the ocean, and he can still make out the pattern of the individual waves. There are no clouds, but he can feel the moistness of the air passing through his clothes.

He wonders whether he should shout—he’s seen enough movies to know that widespread arms and an ‘I’m the king of the world!’ is mandatory for a moment like this, but he decides against it, choosing instead to shut his eyes and feel everything pass by him. While he’s up there, he thinks of the past week—of everything that’s happened—and finally, it hits him.

Closure.

The Cottage is far, far from them now, and he can feel the gradual fade back into Agent Fitz, but it’s okay, he thinks, because the rest of the world needs them more than that island does, and as long as the five of them are together, he doesn’t mind missions and work and being busy. In his mind, they’ll always be Bobbi, Trip, Skye, Jemma, and Fitz, and in his mind, they’ll always be a team.

Leo Fitz had always wondered what it would be like to fly, and now, with the wind in his hair, the sun in his eyes, and the hands of his teammates keeping him steady and safe…

Now, he finally knows.

**Author's Note:**

> GODDAMN I'm a piece of trash you guys.
> 
> Anyway, this idea came to me a while back when my family and I went to stay at the beach for a couple of days. During the 4 hour long car ride going there, I got bored, stared out my window, and listened to sad music. Naturally, the OT5 entered my mind 5 minutes from leaving the house. Go figure.
> 
> Thanks are in order for the Skye to my Simmons, Jess (coolbowties), for putting up with me waking you at ungodly hours to text headcanons and song lyrics. Sorry, Jess. But your sacrifices have birthed this fic, so they were not made in vain.
> 
> Also thank you parents for funding my search for the ultimate Jemma Simmons chocolate chip cookie.
> 
> And because I am ridiculously addicted to meta references, cheesiness, and puns, I threw 'em in a blender and this monstrosity came out. But writing this made me insanely giddy, so please forgive me for all the internal cringing that may or may not have happened within you.
> 
> Nevertheless, I hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!


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